There were many hours in many different apartments spent watching an expensive turn table rotate non-descript vinyl platters at a precise thirty-three and one third rpm. The atmospheric contents of my little studio hotbox may have been questionable at times and judgment could become just as clouded as vision, but one could always depend on that big ass, power hungry pair of Tandberg monitors to tell you the truth about tracking and production and arrangement – and bring the po-leese to the door, most likely – before the evening was over.
The only real advantage that digital has over the old mediums is convenience. There is no warmth in digital. No air. I miss vinyl.